


leave the lights on

by memitims



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you believe in the one?” Steve asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave the lights on

It’s dark in Steve’s small recovery room and Sam’s half-asleep in the chair next to his bed when he hears footsteps outside in the hallway. He watches a dark figure enter the room through his nearly-closed eyelids, his body tensing up with adrenaline and fear. He was staying under the pretense that he was waiting for Steve to wake up – the bullet wounds and falling into the river really took their toll on him –, that’s what he’d told the others at least, but that was only half-true. Sam also wanted to make sure Steve was safe, because he looked so small and vulnerable laying in the clinical white sheets of the bed. He was glad he did, because now random strangers were breaking into Steve’s room.

Except, it’s not some random guy. Sam opens his eyes wider to get a better look, and he’s taken aback when he realizes that it’s the Winter Soldier – no, Bucky – hidden under the dark shadows of a baseball cap.

Sam’s torn. He’s sure Bucky is still dangerous, but he catches the look on Bucky’s face when he looks down at Steve – it’s some elaborate mix of grief, and heartbreak, and hope – that Sam knows he can’t possibly be here to cause Steve harm. Bucky turns his head around to peer at Sam through the darkness and Sam makes his decision, he lets his body relax and his eyes slip close and evens out his breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Bucky whisper, when he turns back around to Steve, and he sounds so goddamn lost that Sam’s heart nearly breaks. Sam cracks open his eyes again and watches Bucky reach out to run a hand through Steve’s messy blond hair, and then shuts them just as fast. He’s pretty sure it’s not something he’s supposed to see.

\---

They’re eating breakfast together after a long run on a sunny Thursday morning when Steve finally brings up Bucky. Sam’s pretty sure Steve has no idea that Bucky came to visit him while he was recovering, and Sam’s not sure if it’s his place to tell him.

“Will you help me bring him back?” Steve asks, as he rummages through his fridge for something. He pulls out a carton of orange juice.

“Who? Bucky?”

Steve nods. “This is my second chance,” he says, and Sam’s pretty sure he’s saying it more to himself than to Sam. “Someone decided to bring him back to me, and I’m not letting him go this time.”

Sam knew Steve was stubborn, but he’s never seen him like this, doesn’t know why he’s so adamant about saving the ghost of his long-lost friend. It’s probably impossible. The rationality in Sam’s bones wants to convince Steve to forget about it, wants to remind him that Bucky pulled him out of the Potomac and disappeared, and that there’s probably only a small piece of his old friend still in there, if any, but then Sam remembers a conversation from month ago, before the whole mess with the Winter Soldier, and it hits him like a fucking bolt of lightning.

\---

Sam had found himself on Steve’s doorstep one night, because he’d had a tough day at work and he was bored as hell, and Steve always had a knack for cheering him up.

He didn’t look very cheerful when he opened the door.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Hello Sam.” He was holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and he gestured inside his apartment with it. “Come in.” He didn’t smile at Sam – bright and blinding – like he usually did.

“If this is a bad time–” Sam started.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Sorry. I was just thinking – about some things. And trying to get drunk, but that never works.”

Sam let out a little chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, and Steve thankfully joined him. “Guess even being the strongest man in the world has its downsides.”

Steve stopped laughing. “I’m not strong,” he said, in a small voice, and  _oh god_ , this wasn’t really what Sam had expected to come over to, but he was glad he did, because Steve was always helping other people, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around helping Steve to pick up his pieces when he fell. He could tell that Steve had so much bottled up inside, and Sam knew what holding that in could do to a person.

“Alright, buddy,” Sam said, placing a careful arm over Steve’s shoulders and leading him into the apartment, setting him down on his couch and taking the armchair for himself. They talked for a little, about the city, about the 21st century, about lighter things that kept the heartbroken creases out of Steve’s forehead. Alcohol made him maudlin – it couldn’t get Steve drunk, but it could make him disappear into some sad, faraway place that Sam couldn’t follow.

“Do you believe in the one?” Steve had suddenly asked, completely out of the blue, and he wouldn’t look over at Sam. “Like, do you think everyone has  _that_  person, the perfect one, the one that no one else will ever come close to and you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to compare?”

“I don’t know about that, but I think Clint’s been making you watch too many rom-coms,” Sam answered.

Steve surprised Sam with a little laugh, a small huff of breath that he almost missed in the oppressive silence between them. Sam was so far out of his depth, he might be a counselor, but he didn’t have any idea how to deal with grieving super soldiers with epic notions of romance and the inability to talk about their feelings.

“If there is,” Steve continued, his voice serious again, “I really screwed it up. I think the world gave me two of them and I screwed up so badly, I lost both of them, and now I have to live in this godforsaken century with parts of me missing.”

It was the most Sam had heard Steve talk about his situation, about the way that he was living, but not really, and it made Sam’s chest hurt.

“I was too scared, such a goddamn coward. Should’ve just done it.” Steve stopped for a second to run a distraught hand through his hair. “And then – wrong place, wrong time. Screwed that one up, too.”

Sam knew the second one was Peggy Carter, had heard all about her – she was fearless and smart as a whip – and read about her in the Smithsonian – her bright red mouth smiling back at him from the photographs – and watched the way Steve’s face lit up when he made plans to go visit her in the hospital. He wasn’t sure who the first one was, had figured it was probably some girl back in Brooklyn from before the serum that Steve had never done anything about.

But he knows now.

\---

Sam suddenly gets it and everything makes sense. The way Steve had looked after seeing the Winter Soldier on the bridge, –  _Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky_  – the stubborn commitment to bringing him back home in one piece, the dropped shield, the smidge of hope that had danced across Steve’s face when Sam told him that Bucky had pulled him out of the water, only to disappear just as quickly when he realized that no one knew where Bucky was.

Sam realizes, tragically, that Steve might be the best and most unforgettable person he knows, yet the two people Steve cares about most in the world can hardly remember him. He thinks about Peggy, in that sterile white hospital wing, and Bucky, with his blank eyes tearing down Steve’s careful composure.

“You’re in love with him,” Sam says, and it’s not a question, because he knows for sure. “He’s your  _one_ , the one that you were too afraid to tell.”

Steve drops the carton of orange juice. “How?” He stops and swallows, his voice breaking. “How did–”

“Figured it out.” Sam shrugs. “It’s obvious, once you see it.” He stops to work up his nerve; he has his own demons that are nearly impossible to talk about. “And, you remember Riley?”

Sam can’t say anything else about him, has never been able to find the words, but Steve nods, knowingly.

“I get it,” Sam says quietly. “If Riley came back from the dead, if I got a second chance, I’d do anything to save him. I’m not supposed to think about that – ways it could have gone differently, what I would say to him if he was still alive – I tell my patients not to, it’s bad for the psyche, but sometimes I can’t help it.”

“So you’re in, then?” Steve asks, giving him a quirk of a half-smile, and Sam nods.

“‘Course I am, man. I’m not gonna be the one to stand between true love and all that bullshit. I’ll help you get him back.”

Steve pulls him in for a sloppy hug.

\---

Sam’s in the checkout line at Whole Foods when someone taps him on the shoulder. He spins around, surprised. Bucky’s standing behind him, dressed in all black and holding himself carefully, like he’s worried that one wrong move will make him fall apart. Sam can see that he’s dead tired, the bags under his eyes possibly even darker than the last time Sam had seen him

“Is he okay?” Bucky asks, without preamble.

“Hello.” Sam holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Sam Wilson. Glad to see that you’re not trying to kill me anymore.”

Bucky glares at him and shakes Sam’s hand, after some hesitation. He keeps his metal hand tucked away behind his back, Sam notices.

“Is he okay?” he asks again.

Sam laughs. “Christ. The pair of you. Never seen two kids dumber in my life. Go talk to him yourself, buddy.”

“He doesn’t want to see me.”

Sam reaches out and pats Bucky on the shoulder. “I think you’ll find you’re very much wrong about that. Trust me.”

Bucky looks skeptical, but he mutters a quick  _thanks_ , and disappears towards the displays of fruits and vegetables. Sam starts to unload his cart, shaking his head disbelievingly. He’s not sure when his life became so screwed up that it was normal for ex-assassins to come up to him in the supermarket and ask for romance advice, but he figures it’s probably better than said ex-assassin trying to kill him in Whole Foods.

As it turns out, Sam isn’t half-bad at giving romance advice. He heads over to Steve’s that night to check on him, curious about whether Bucky summoned the courage to do what Sam said, and stops short outside the window. He stares through the glass, hardly able to believe his eyes. Except, he can.

Steve has Bucky pressed up against his kitchen counter, and they’re kissing like their lives depend on it, holding each other close under the bright fluorescent lights.

Sam turns away and smiles. He thinks about putting  _expert supersoldier matchmaker on his resume_. It has a nice ring.


End file.
